SubscribeYFC — The powers behind the throne: The trainers
These are the best friends a camper can have. It’s the responsibility of these well-schooled gentlemen to keep the paying customers happy, upright, and playing.
From left, Gary, Javier, and Tim.
From day one, head trainer Gary and his associates Tim and Javier, massaged, taped, iced, heated, and medicated more than 50 percent of the campers, treating everything from pulled hamstrings to sprained ankles to, in my case, a calcium deposit that needed extra padding. Some of us feel we’re too tough, in too good shape to require such ministrations. Others are in there every time you turn around. They parade around the locker room with bags of ice taped to various body parts, making them look like a combination between the Michelin Man and Mr. Olympia.
Head trainer Gary assists another aching camper.
After the first day, I was so sore from catching one game and playing infield and outfield in the next that I could barely move my legs. I took a foul ball to the face mask that barely registered, followed by another foul ball off the forearm (unprotected), not to mention the constant up and down from squatting. Even getting on and off the bus on the way back to the hotel was an adventure. And I was one of the better cases.
The suggestion was made at the first camp meeting: “Start slow…and taper off.” But you can look at almost every camper and read his or her mind: that won’t happen to me. You figure you’re only here for a week; you can tough it out. But that’s just crazy talk.
Each night is a call for a fresh application of balm (the trainers use a product called Atomic Balm which feels as hot as it sounds, lasts forever, and increases in intensity the more you sweat) and a handful of Advil.
The trainer’s room is a tidy arrangement of tables, rolls of tape, assorted ointments, tools, and pills (all approved by MLB). Another room houses the hot tub and a trio of ice baths that look like large metal tubs with outboard motors on the inside. That’s quite an experience, one limited to less than 15 minutes, even for the hardiest among us.
The trainers are also responsible for stretching us out before each game. Participation is mandatory and sometimes like a game of Simon Says, as players do what they do rather than what the trainers say.
I tell you what, all this gives you a better appreciation for all the little nicks, cuts, and bruises a player sustains in every game. Forget about the big stuff; it’s these nickle and diming that makes you feel mortal.
Catching is brutal. My least favorite position to play and the one I have the most respect for. My hat’s off to you.
Thank you, sir. I’m paying for it now, tho. It does gvie you an appreciation for those who play it well. Catching parts of a doubleheader in Floirda heat and humidity is not job for a supposedly mature man, at least one of my age.